When I wake up, the first thing I need to decide is which face to wear for the day. I imagine most people need to make this important decision.
Should I wear the pitiful face? The sullen look? The buzzing with confidence expression? The head turner? You need to consider just who it is you’ll be seeing in the day before you make this important decision. Coffee and toast beforehand helps get the mind in motion.
There are so many faces to choose from, and each day I tear off my current head, and switch it for another. Maybe I want to be invisible for the day, or perhaps I want to win ‘him’ over. There is a lot to determine, but no matter what, I can’t stop laughing when I stitch on my new face, from the dozens within my wardrobe. I have more faces than shoes, and one day I worry I’ll run out of room. Make up covers scars, and the faces win me personal wars. There are no duds in my collection, I burnt those ones long ago.
But one day while wearing the Medusa face, he didn’t know me. He asked if we’d met before, and no matter how much I insisted, he said this wasn’t me. I guess he liked a past face, one which I’d used to draw him closer before my planned attack, but when I went to switch, I couldn’t remember which face it was. I couldn’t even remember my original face. The coffee didn’t help, it just made my hands shake.
So I tore off my face, threw it against the wall, and pulled the wardrobe apart, heads rolling this way and that. I kept switching heads with whatever I could find, but I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find anything. One head which rolled in front of me was my smug head, and I despised looking at it detached from my body.
So I cut up my faces, and sat with no face. It was better this way.